


Bring Good to My Lonely Life

by foulrescent



Category: Political Animals
Genre: Alcohol, Coming Out, Identity Issues (sort of), Kissing, M/M, TJ slept with a popstar and it's all very platonic in the morning, cameo from 1d boys, larry if u want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 21:03:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5717014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foulrescent/pseuds/foulrescent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He scrambles in a low, heavy British accent, “Are you the First Son?”</p>
<p>TJ laughs in a way Nana would be proud. “Are you a pop-star?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring Good to My Lonely Life

**Author's Note:**

> This is so self-indulgent of me, sorry.
> 
> But TJ <3
> 
> (Title from The Weeknd's and Lana Del Rey's 'Prisoner')

TJ’s in New York and he’s in someone’s hotel room, and he doesn’t bother saying anything as he pulls up his jeans, looking at the sleeping figure on the bed. The guy’s on his stomach, the sheet pooling around his waist, and he has a damn good back, tattoos on his arms. TJ remembers a butterfly on the guy’s stomach and he starts to laugh. He remembers staring at that piece of ink for at least a minute before the guy got impatient and jutted his hips up, cock nudging his lips. He laughs harder, whole body trembling. Dribbles of water fly around from the shaking of his wet hair.

The guy grudgingly gets on his elbows, looking back at TJ with a perplexed expression. The expression changes into something like appreciation, those green eyes trailing up and down TJ's torso. He scrambles in a low, heavy British accent, “Are you the First Son?”

TJ laughs in a way Nana would be proud. “Are you a pop-star?”

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” the _lad_ drawls, flipping back his long hair.

“Ah, fuck,” TJ sighs, “You ripped my shirt.”

“Borrow one of mine.”

He flips the suitcase at the end of the bed open and he’s meet with black, white, black and 5 distinctively bright patterned shirts. He hums appreciatively at the colour and then grabs the one that’s mixed with shades of blue and red flowers. He buttons it up, feeling like he’s on vacation. He is on vacation, technically, in NY, but this shirt makes him want to fly to Fiji and drink cocktails and, maybe if the whole family tags along, smoothies. 

There’s a hickey on his inner forearm and he still feels a little drunk, but alcohol is never the problem. He touches his nose and then rubs his eyes, toeing on his shoes. Maybe alcohol is a little bit of a problem if he can't remember most of the details from last night. He can remember the guy there, of course, the pouty lips latched onto his neck, grinding against his thigh. It was all just fun, all just for the sake of dancing with a pretty boy.

“How did you do it?”

TJ pauses, turns around to see the guy staring up at him. “Do what?”

“Come out and have everyone, just, support you so greatly,” the guy begins, “Back in England, people spoke about you with such admiration. I was little at the time, but my sister had a picture of you in her mirror and she didn’t take it down when she found out her fantasy would never happen. I mean, her love got stronger, really.”

TJ flushes, takes only in _I was little at the time_. “You’re legal, right?”

“21,” he grins, “Now answer the question, how?”

He watches as TJ makes his way around the room, picking up his things. TJ doesn't know what to say, so he just goes to say what he always wanted to say. He thinks about the guy's age for a second, feels old, and then inhales deeply. He's not wise, but he feels the need to act mature in this instant. He has the edging feeling to double check if they used a condom.

“Well, it was against my will, really. I had kissed so many boys that year that there were speculations and my parents couldn’t keep it hidden, so they organised a press conference and there were a million reporters and flashes in my eyes. I punched a mirror afterwards and spent the night in hospital, did the whole thing were you cry yourself to sleep.”

“Oh.”

TJ continues, the truth rolling off his tongue, “I would’ve straightened up my kissing for a while and then thrown a huge party, which would’ve been a huge _fuck you_ for my dad. I probably would’ve been happier for a longer time if I hadn’t have come out at that moment, you know, but thank you thinking that I’m brave.”

It’s silent for several seconds and then the guy smiles. “Leave your number behind so I can invite you to a party I’ll be hosting in the near, ever so fucking near, future.”

TJ beams and then crouches next to the bed and takes the guy’s hand in his, squeezing it a little bit. He leans over and kisses the guy one last time. The guy threads his massive hands into TJ’s hair, pulling him in closer. He opens his mouth and TJ doesn’t even know his name, but he knows his face, has seen it on television and probably even traced it with the tips of his fingers last night. He moans and TJ bites at his lip, bites the pinkness of this young man that has his whole life ahead of him. The guy pants and TJ lets him tongue at his bottom lip, lets him tug at it with a chance to end up between the sheets again.

Before it can get too heated, TJ pulls away. He huffs a small laugh. “Thank you for last night, I suppose. I can’t really remember it.”

“How the fuck do you not have a hangover?” The guy groans, but with a lazy, pretty smile.

TJ makes his way to the front door, his head thriving off the headache that's forming at the mention of a hangover. He makes sure that he has his lighter, cigarettes and phone. There are 7 notifications, but he’ll check those later. He grins. “I’ve been doing this for much longer than you, sugar.”

He’s out the door and then guy quietly says, “Thank you for being brave afterwards.”

“Good luck.”

TJ turns to the hallway and notices three others by another door at the end, looking right in his direction. The blond looks curious, the one only clad in boxers looks a little tired and grumpy, and the one with the cigarette behind his ear looks a little pissed off. He raises his eyebrows, they discretely look everywhere but at him, and he makes it to the elevator. As the doors are closing, TJ sees the three of them hurry to the room he just came out of.

Back outside, he hails down a cab and rattles the address of Anne’s apartment to the driver. He leans back and checks his phone, realizing that he never gave the closeted guy his number. He decides that it doesn’t matter, because anyone’s able to track down TJ Hammond (and he especially welcomes cute pop-stars).

 

 

 

When TJ arrives back in DC a week later and goes back into his normal mode, he notices that Harry Styles of One Direction has followed him on Twitter and has tweeted him: _@tjhammond It would be lovely of you if you gave me back my shirt. It’s my favourite. H_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :-)


End file.
